Weaknesses
by MadameHappy
Summary: Peter saw the buckets of slime sitting in the corner of the room and grimaced. "How's he doing?" Rocket didn't look up, pulling away and wringing more slime from the cloth. His teeth were bared. "He's oozing out shit from his fucking orifices. He's doing great." Rated T for swearing.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

**I have been thinking about Groot's weakness for the past few days. Taking away the obvious ones, such as fire and making shields of protection to protect the ones you love (sob), I wanted to know the other things that could possibly hurt him, or at the very least, weaken him. **

**To do that, I decided to find what hurt trees. This is a story based on a theory I made about one of his weaknesses. **

**The only way I am associated to Guardians of the Galaxy, Stan Lee, and Marvel is through my hyperactive imagination.**

* * *

**Weaknesses**

**By MadameHappy**

Groot's bark oozed with sickness as he lay in the Milano's lower deck, his eyes closed and his wooden form limp. Rocket sat on his toolbox, watching over the Colossus as he worked on his latest bomb. Frequently he would cast him an anxious glance and pick up the dirty towel that lay dumped beside him, wiping away the slimy film that coated his body and wringing the sludge into a bucket.

Groot had been this way for over two days now. Ever since they came back from a mission involving some bandit that Rocket didn't give much of a shit about, Groot had been leaking ooze through all sorts of places and sleeping throughout.

Maybe it was the fact that Groot's condition happened too rarely for Rocket to take notice of. Maybe it was the whole ordeal of Groot having to grow back from sapling to full form that made him forget. Either way, Rocket had to blame himself for not even _thinking_ when they landed on the most miserable planet in the whole galaxy.

Groot had always been sensitive about contaminants. He was the first to sense it. Back when it was just Rocket and Groot, Rocket noticed that Groot was always so damn _depressed _whenever they had to land on a polluted planet. He would look at every scrap of trash and every contaminated lake like it was a fallen ice cream cone. He just looked a little sicker near pollutants, and Rocket never liked it.

Sometimes it was too much for him. After years of being an outlaw with Rocket, Groot was resilient to the waste, and could endure large amounts for short periods of time. However, if they landed on a couple too many dirty planets, he absorbs too much of the filth and would have to spend close to a week flushing the contaminants from his system.

Rocket didn't even _remember_. He made Groot walk through the littered streets, breathing in the smoggy air. He didn't even think about the risk when the Flora Colossus charged into the god-forsaken murky river to bind the escaping bandit with his vines.

When they returned to the ship and Groot had practically collapsed on the lower deck, Rocket yanked Quill off the captain's seat and shot the Milano into outer space, away from the trash and the pollutants.

They laid him down on the metal bench that sat in the lower deck, and Groot hadn't moved since.

Peter, Gamora and Drax helped in their own way. Peter, knowing that Groot liked his music, played it around his hibernating form when he could, sometimes setting the headphones on his ears. Drax tipped bottle upon bottle of water into his absorbent mouth, and offered Rocket help with cleaning him (which Rocket often refused). Gamora checked the ship's coordinates, making sure that it was on a steady course to the nearest vegetated planet- Navana, which was a couple of light years away.

As for Rocket, he sat on his toolbox, watching over him. It was only right.

Rocket stood and wiped away the slime from Groot's sickly face. Some of his bark plates had begun to chip off at the surface, showing his weak wooden flesh.

"Idiot," he murmured, in case he could hear him.

Peter walked down from the cockpit. "Gamora says that we should be landing in about two days." He saw the buckets of slime sitting in the corner of the room and grimaced. "How's he doing?"

Rocket didn't look up, pulling away and wringing more slime from the cloth. His teeth were bared. "He's oozing out shit from his fucking orifices. He's doing great."

Peter knelt beside him and tried to console the poor raccoon, knowing that he was the most concerned out of all of them about Groot's well-being. "He'll be better tomorrow. Back to his old Grooty self."

Rocket made a half-hearted snort. "Yeah." Rocket threw the cloth on the floor and slumped back down onto the toolbox, picking up his device and fiddling with it.

Peter stared at him, noting the withdrawn look on his face. He sighed, then reached out to pat him on the shoulder. Rocket tensed.

"Look, don't blame yourself. You didn't ask him to do it."

Rocket didn't respond, only shrugging off the hand and picking up the rag again, seeing that the slime had begun to seep. "Go back to your headphones, Quill."

Peter, deciding to let it be, sighed and left. Rocket looked up at Groot's closed eyes. He hated them closed.

* * *

Groot's eyes opened.

The smell of fresh air greeted him. He was propped up against a giant trunk, the sick feeling of toxins gone from his body, replaced by a refreshing sense of cleanliness. A smile grew on his face. His vines rooted themselves to the moist wet earth, feeling himself regenerate as the healthy soil nourished him.

He took his time to look around. The first thing he noticed was the raccoon that slept next to him.

Surprised, he leaned down and peered, scrutinizing his friend.

Rocket looked awful. He lay there, curled up against Groot's side, back against the tree trunk, head slumped on his leg. His fur looked unkempt and dirty, his jumpsuit stained with odd substances. He also looked a tad skinnier than he remembered, almost as if he hadn't eaten in a long time.

Being as gentle as possible, he scooped up the furry creature into his arms, leaves growing and cocooning him for comfort. Rocket didn't stir, only grunting and turning over, face pressed against his chest. Groot smiled, a vine running down his tired form.

He sat there contentedly for hours, holding Rocket and sucking up much-needed nutrients as he watched the four suns of the forest planet move along the violet-tinted sky.

He remembered the last time they had gone on a planet like this. Peter and the other guardians weren't there yet. It was just him and Rocket, outlaws, escaping prison after prison.

They had gotten an enormous award for returning a precious item. Rocket, who decided that they needed to 'get the crap out of your system', arranged a day-long trip to a clean planet before they did anything else. Groot had spent the day excreting toxins and weaving flowers into Rocket's head (Rocket didn't mind that day, and Groot liked that). That trip had made him happy.

Memories he shared with Rocket always made him happy.

He looked down when he felt his friend begin to move, stirring from his slumber.

Rocket's eyes opened into tiny slits, seeing a big wooden blur of a face that could only belong to one tree. "Groot?"

Groot smiled. "I am Groot."

Rocket's eyes shot open, and he sat up, looking him up and down. "Groot!" He grinned widely as he ran his hands along his bark plates and felt no slime- just the firm, healthy wood that he wanted to feel. He gripped at Groot's arms, realizing then that he was being carried. He didn't give a crap.

Rocket sighed, pressing his forehead against his chest, his eyes closed. Groot crooned, a hand going up to the top of his head.

The flooding relief swelled into rage.

"You... You MORON!" Rocket screamed.

Groot looked taken aback. "I am Groot?"

"You're damn right I'm not happy with you, you giant overgrown daisy!" Rocket's claws dug into Groot's bark angrily. "Five days! Fucking _dead_ to the world for five days! You don't go risking yourself like that!"

He was shaking, his head lifting up to make eye contact, and he was painfully aware of the last time he was this close to Groot's face, on a crashing ship, when Groot had built his protection around them and they only had a few precious seconds to communicate.

Groot's expression softened. His wooden hand lowered down to Rocket's shoulder and back, humming assuringly. "I am Groot."

Rocket's hand balled up to a fist and he hit it hard against his arm in frustration. He snarled. "This shouldn't be happening again, you hear me? I don't keep you around so you can try to kill yourself!"

Groot looked down concernedly, staring as Rocket huffed, controlling his breath and blinking back tears. Finally, after a moment, Rocket heaved and let out a sigh, his anger fading. He let go of his arms and slumped down, seating himself against him and pressing his nose to his knees. Groot hummed worriedly, his vines wrapping around him loosely.

"I am Groot."

Rocket opened his eyes and glanced up. "Don't be sorry," he grumbled, curling himself closer.

Groot whined, his vines tightening into a soft squeeze. Rocket sighed, turning his head to look up at his face.

"Yeah," he said reluctantly. "I know. But for fuck's sake Groot, you didn't even _need_ to. Don't apologize, don't give me those puppy eyes, just _don't do it again_. Got it?"

Rocket softened the way only Groot could make him. He clutched a vine. "I don't want you to die. Not again."

A vine went and touched his ear. "I am Groot."

Rocket's body tensed. Out of all of the things Groot could have said, _that_ was definitely not in the list of things he expected him to say.

"You love me."

Groot lifted Rocket so that they faced each other eye-to-eye. He smiled with the innocence only Groot could pull off. "I am Groot."

Rocket stared at him disbelievingly. He was standing now, holding onto his shoulders for balance. Sure, Rocket was no saint, and sure, his change of heart about not saving the galaxy redeemed himself a little bit, but _love_ was unexplored territory, something he never thought he'd reach, or even _want_ to reach.

It seemed that he proved himself wrong.

Groot hummed, tilting his head at him in confusion as Rocket continued to stare. Rocket snorted, a faint smile on his face. "Moron," he muttered. He pressed his snout quickly against his cheek. Not considered a kiss, but it was enough.

Rocket clambered down, sitting on his lap. "I'm going to repeat what I said. I don't keep you around so you can get yourself killed. Not without me. 'Cause that's only way I'm going to let you die."

He settled against him as he watched the sky contentedly. Groot could only smile, following suit. It was a peaceful moment then, just him and Groot, laid back against a giant tree, watching the four suns that lit the sky and oblivious to the other Guardians, who had had witnessed their little scene from afar and were now gone, repacking the ship.

Groot had his weaknesses, and so did Rocket. But they conquered them together, like the outlaws they were.

* * *

**Reviews are appreciated. Praise will be enjoyed, constructive criticism acknowledged and flames ignored.**

**-Happy :)**


End file.
